


Dripping White Daisies

by Domokoru



Series: Sycamore Pines [2]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Des being gross... Again, F/M, Kink Discovery, Male Solo, Masturbation, Panty Kink, Panty Sniffing, Scent Kink, Secret Crush, Underwear Kink, Underwear Theft, killer pun about fertilization, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domokoru/pseuds/Domokoru
Summary: Professor Sycamore is a good person, honest!Just because he steals laundry doesn't mean he's not a British gentleman... Right?
Relationships: Emmy Altava/Desmond Sycamore
Series: Sycamore Pines [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907272
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Dripping White Daisies

One blustery day in Froenborg, the normal glaring blood-orange hue of the Bostonius was steadily being hidden under rapidly piling snow. Professor Layton, Luke, Emmy, and Aurora had come back to investigate cases featured in _The World Times,_ while Desmond stayed back at the airship with Raymond. Desmond would usually follow the gang out to inspect the events presented in the magazine articles, but this time was different. His loyal butler was still spry, but undoubtedly far from a spring chicken. The frigid air of Froenborg, in addition to making his bones ache, had made him more prone to catching colds when they visited. Refusing to let Raymond do anything but rest while under the weather, Desmond took over all of his usual duties. It was surprisingly tiring, and he made a mental note to help Raymond with housekeeping more often. He checked his to-do list.

"Dishes, dusting, meal prep, account for supplies..." Only one task was left: do all the laundry. He put the note back into his breast pocket and walked down to the hallway where all of the bedrooms were located. One by one, he pulled the hampers out of every room in order, except for Raymond's, as not to disturb him. He was down to one last load to pick up before being done with his chores of the day, and it was from the room in which Emmy, Professor Layton's assistant, temporarily resided.

Creaking open the door, Desmond was hit with a blast of lavender fragrance. He saw Emmy had plugged in a small air freshener near the door. The professor glanced around the room. Unlike Luke and Layton's pigstys and Aurora's minimalist room, Emmy had made her space very comfortable. She had her desk neatly arranged with supplies to develop her photographs, and she had hung fairy lights near her bed. There was a small stack of magazines with cat-eared pages on her nightstand and a small, tattered stuffed lion on her bed. Overall, it was a cute room for a young woman, and knowing who stayed there made it even cuter. The man was instantly hit with the feeling of guilt for entering this space at all, even if he owned this ship and he was only there for housekeeping purposes.

Desmond felt ashamed for having a secret infatuation with the only adult woman on the Bostonius like some sort of womanizer, but he couldn't help it! Emmy was just too wonderful! Somehow she managed to experience the world with both the excitement of a child and intelligence beyond her years. Though kind and caring, she'd never hesitate to speak her mind. Her personality was stellar, not to mention her looks, which she would be complimented on daily by strangers. Emmy had unknowingly become everything to him, but he knew nothing could ever come of it.

The professor shook himself out of that uncomfortable train of thought and got back to work. Desmond bent down to pick up the laundry hamper, but he froze in place before he could grab it. Laying on top of the rest of the clothes was a pair of hipster panties, bright yellow and dappled with a white daisy pattern. He tried to look away, but he couldn't tear his eyes from it.

_This is..._ Desmond gulped and fought to look everywhere but the hamper as he picked it up and carried it to the laundry room at the end of the hall. 

The man looked at the clock; there was still ample time until Layton's crew was set to return. Chiming to signal the laundry was finished, the white noise of the spinning machines halted. Desmond brought the hamper over and looked at the offending article again.

_I can't. It's wrong. There's no way I could **ever...**_ The professor's hands worked against him and snatched the underwear, shoving it into his pocket. Immediately, he repressed his memory of the action and pretended nothing had happened, nonchalantly dumping the rest of the clothes into the wash before going back to his room.

* * *

Desmond locked his door just in case before sitting on the edge of his bed. He gingerly pulled the bundle of fabric out of his pocket and gawked at it. Tucking his thumbs into the waistband, he stretched them taut, warping the flowery pattern. He stared at the ever-so faintly discolored crotch of the underwear, breathing heavily, before closing his eyes and plunging his face into it. 

Desmond moaned as her aroma hit him. Sweetness, musk, salty sweat, a hint of soap... Knowing what his crush smelled like made him dizzy with lust. He used one hand to keep the panties near his nose and used the other to frantically unzip his fly. 

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Miss Altava." Desmond whispered. He grabbed his half-chub and started pumping. Every time he masturbated, it was out of necessity rather than pleasure, and he felt like a reprobate after he finished. He always sobered to the thought of how wrong it all was. There was no excuse for him to be defiling Professor Layton's assistant in his mind, and yet he couldn't stop. 

Desmond took another huff from the fabric in front of him, his eyes rolling back as the scent hit him like a tidal wave. Jerking harder, he already felt like he was about to burst. The last thought in his mind was that cumming where her sex rested, indirectly, was as close to making love with the girl as he was ever going to get. He quickly moved the panties to hold them to his cock, just in time to catch all of his release. 

"Ohh, Emmy, Emmy, Emmy, Emmy..." Her name escaped his lips again as he climaxed. 

Panting hard, Desmond fell backwards onto the bed, still clutching the underwear with an iron grip. He pulled it to his face again, smelling it one last time. Their scents intermingled beautifully, making his cock throb again. Though, he was already beginning to sober up. Desmond realized what he was doing and felt disgusted with himself, yet again. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his brow, giving himself a bit more time before pushing himself off the bed. Desmond went to his private bathroom to run clean the panties in the sink. Before twisting on the faucet, he looked at them sadly. His own disgusting bodily fluids oozed down, covering the sweet little flowers. Looking away in shame, he turned on the tap. The frigid water stung his fingers as he tried to scrub his own filth out of her underwear.

After hanging them to dry, Desmond sat and tried to come up with a plan of action. He decided to ask Raymond if he could take over some chores from him, and then he could slip them back into her laundry as if nothing happened. Desmond was still a good person, helping his butler and long-time friend with housekeeping. That was all it was, nothing else. Having unrestricted access to Emmy's laundry had _nothing_ to do with it. Or so he told himself.

* * *

After several weeks of increasingly common laundry-smuggling, Desmond was beginning to develop a keen nose for Emmy's clothing. He'd long since increased his range to bras, shirts, and even socks on occasion. No matter the article, Desmond could tell so much about Emmy's routine by smell alone; what she had eaten, if she had exercised, where she was in her cycle, were all discernible by her scent. 

Each time, he would write his impressions in a small journal, fastened with a lock. The article, the design, the texture, the scent, the flavor... Every aspect was accounted for in a small, neat grid that contrasted his chicken scratch penmanship. At least if someone stole his journal, they probably wouldn't be able to decipher it, he hoped. The man was beyond feeling shameful and now relished being able to know the object of his affection so intimately, more than anyone else in the world. 

For the past several days, everyone on the team was investigating Phong Gi village for an Azran egg. The climate was hot and humid. Though the weather was objectively horrible to everyone besides the natives, it did have one redeeming factor: it meant Emmy's dirty laundry had become even more fragrant than usual.

This week, the bounty had been fantastic; two pairs of socks, a sports bra, a tank top, and three pairs of underwear, including the yellow daisy panties that had started his obsession in the first place. Desmond shoved the articles of clothing into his own laundry basket and hurried to his own room once more. 

The man arranged everything neatly on his bed before pulling out his journal. Desmond scribbled descriptions of the clothes and the date. Putting his notes to the side, he laid on his stomach and pressed his face into the fabric of the wireless bra, huffing it open-mouthed. Desmond wasn't usually one for anything less than hygienic, especially bodily fluids, but it was _Emmy's_ and he couldn't believe that she could ever produce anything "dirty".

There were darker spots in the light gray fabric where it had cupped her breasts. Desmond surmised she'd worn it while strength training, but they were also in the midst of investigating a village near the Equator, making it hard to confirm one way or the other. If he wasn't afraid of irreparably stretching it with his broad shoulders, the man would've worn it to feel as close to her as possible. Instead, he sat up and settled on clutching it to his chest. 

_I wish I could embrace you._ Desmond could only imagine how her breasts would feel again his chest... No, not his chest; Emmy was considerably shorter than him. At most, the top of her head would reach his chest. _So cute! She's just so cute!_ As he lost himself in his thoughts, Desmond could feel himself getting hard. No longer did he feel guilty about doing this; it wasn't as if he was ever going to get caught. He shoved his pants off as quickly as he could and wrestled his dick out of his briefs. Desmond reached to the side to grab one of the socks at random. He wasn't interested in the smell so much as the texture. Many of Emmy's socks were soft and silky, making for better cock sleeves than her other clothing. 

After slathering on lube, the final step was to arrange the panties. Three pairs happened to be the perfect amount for this ritual: one to wear over his head to huff the entire time, one to shove into his mouth like a gag, and one to ejaculate into at the very end. The third role was always awarded to the flowery pair, as it was his personal favorite. Desmond couldn't even imagine how disgraceful he must look, shoving his dick into a sock, tangled in various pairs of underwear. It didn't matter, none of it mattered. As far as he was concerned, as long as Emmy never found out about it, it never happened. As long as Emmy never found out he was doing this, he was still a proper British gentleman. Soaking her white boyshorts with his drool and slicking his precum inside her opaque nylon socks meant nothing when it was so easy to clean, truly a victimless crime! 

Desmond started to feel lightheaded from Emmy's scent and the temporary lack of blood in his head. He was never able to last long when he did this, and it was probably for the best. The faster he came, the faster he could return all of the clothes in secret. Desmond stroked faster, squeezing the sock around him tighter, grunting around his makeshift gag. At the last second, he tore the sock off himself and bundled up the yellow daisy panties into a wad to catch his seed. For the umpteenth time, he "fertilized" the garden depicted on the underwear.

Falling back onto his bed, he pushed everything but the tank top aside. Gingerly picking it up, Desmond looked fondly at the top. It felt soft, like it belonged to a pair of pajamas, with a pale striped pattern. He pressed it to his face. The shirt smelled of soap, lemon, and lavender, confirming in his mind that it was a pajama top and had been warn right after Emmy had taken a shower. Everything about the aroma was calming. If it weren't for the pressing matter of taking the laundry back, Desmond could've easily fallen asleep with the shirt draped across his face. There was never an afterglow to be had. Every time, it was the same procedure: clean self, redress, wash laundry in his sink, bury the articles in his own basket, return to the laundry room. 

Before leaving, Desmond took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his brow and neck. He could pass for being sweaty from the horrid humidity of Phong Gi, but he preferred to look as prim and proper as possible in case he were to run into someone in the hall. The man picked up his basket with one hand and prepared to leave.

_Knock knock._ The sudden noise at the door made Desmond jump and hastily shove his handkerchief back into his pocket. Holding the basket at his side, he went to answer the door. Pulling it open, he saw none other than Emmy. Desmond felt his heart throb at the sight of her.

"Hello, Professor." Emmy smiled politely. "I had a quick question for you." 

"Sure. Go ahead." 

"You do the laundry for everyone, right?" Emmy asked nonchalantly. Desmond's blood ran cold. He nodded, relying on his acting talent to remain composed.

"Yes. I figured I should help Raymond with some of the housekeeping. Six people is a bit more difficult to handle than our usual two passengers." Desmond responded calmly. None of what he said was untrue.

"That's nice of you!" Emmy commented. The man beamed inwardly at the compliment. "Anyway, can you check in there for me? Because, um," Emmy looked away for the briefest moment, "some of my clothes are missing." Desmond felt himself go pale as a sheet.

"Sure." The man forced the word out. "What kinds of clothes should I be looking for?" 

"Oh, you know..." Emmy looked away again. "Socks, shirts... That sort of thing." 

"Of course. I was headed over to the laundry right now actually. They might've gotten mixed with Aurora's." Desmond began hurrying toward the laundry room and away from the conversation. "Don't worry, I'll get it sorted out." _I know that look. She didn't want to ask a random man about her underwear, but I know that's what she was thinking of. This ends today! Never again! I'll just clean them and put them in Aurora's pile! Nobody will be any the wiser! Nobody will find out!_

"Thanks!" Emmy called after him, but the professor was too absorbed in his own thoughts to reply. She began to turn to head back to her room, but noticed a red flash in the corner of her eye. On the ground was a small square of fabric, a handkerchief. "Oh, he must've dropped this." Emmy murmured to herself. She stood back up to return it, but as she looked down the hall, the man was already gone. 

Emmy took the chance to examine it further. She noticed a little embroidered border winding its way around the edge of the fabric. It looked like some sort of... flower? Vine? Pulling it closer to her face for a better look, it hit her. The sweet, syrupy smell of the professor's cologne mixed with his sweat in an aromatic blend that sent a shiver down her spine. She only snapped out of her trance when she heard her own huffing, making her jolt in place.

_I can't. It's wrong. There's no way I could **ever...**_ Emmy gave each end of the hallway a last once-over, making sure there weren't any witnesses. The girl shoved the fabric into her pocket and hurried to her room, pretending nothing had happened.

**Author's Note:**

> "I guess you're gonna miss the panty raid."  
> "The what?"  
> "I said, I GUESS you're gonna MISS the PANTY RAID."  
> "Panty raid? You're talking about girls, right? 'Girl' girls?"  
> "Yeah."  
> "And you're talking about raiding their dressers for their underpants, right?"  
> "Oh, yeah."


End file.
